TO THE LIGHTHOUSE
being depressed by something William had said;
the birds in the trees; the sofa on the landing;
the children being awake; Charles Tansley waking
them with his books falling—oh no, that she had
invented; and Paul having a wash-leather case for
his watch. Which should she tell him about?
" They're engaged/' she said, beginning to
knit, " Paul and Minta."
" So I guessed," he said. There was nothing
very much to be said about it. Her mind was still
going up and down, up and down with the poetry;
he was still feeling very vigorous, very forthright,
after reading about Steenie's funeral. So they sat
silent. Then she became aware that she wanted
him to say something.
Anything, anything, she thought, going on
with her knitting. Anything will do.
" How nice it would be to marry a man with a
wash-leather bag for his watch," she said, for that
was the sort of joke they had together,
He snorted. He felt about this engagement
as he always felt about any engagement; the girl
is much too good for that young man. Slowly it
came into her head, why is it then that one wants
people to marry? What was the value, the
meaning of things? (Every word they said now
would be true.) Do say something, she thought,
wishing only to hear his voice. For the shadow,